


As I Watch It Fall Apart

by serpentsandtricksters



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Grief/Mourning, spoilers for episode 98/99
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 9,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23313610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serpentsandtricksters/pseuds/serpentsandtricksters
Summary: "As pain pulsed through it, life flooded Fjord, but he didn’t need it – Jester did – he needed to get to Jester – he needed––"Jester falls in battle and, for a moment, Fjord's world stops.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay & Fjord, Fjord/Jester Lavorre
Comments: 14
Kudos: 113





	1. Chapter 1

The waves rocked against the ship as Fjord surged forward, blade glowing as it plunged into another sea spawn’s chest. The creature let out a wet shriek, staggering, but still didn’t fall, and Fjord tore his blade free with a squelch and growl of frustration.

There was no roaring storm around them this time, no lightning flashing in the sky to blur with the spark of steel-against-steel. But the sky was choked with clouds, the moon cloaked and night especially dark, and the water around their ship was rolling blackness. The creatures had crawled up from those inky depths to strike while they slept. Thankfully, they had set a watch this time. Thankfully, they had all slept in their armour. Thankfully, they had been prepared.

A scream came from across the deck.

Fjord whirled to look over his shoulder. A Sword of Fathoms tore through Jester’s chest, sending her reeling and collapsing to the slick wood floor of the ship. Blood spilled, her blue hands stained red where she clutched the wound – her lips moved with the beginnings of an incantation – the blade swung down again, driving through her stomach. Her scream choked into a gurgle as her eyes rolled back.

“ _Jester!_ ”

Sharp pain tore through his forearm. The damned sea spawn had bit into him; he blasted it with bright green eldritch energy, bursting its head in a spray of ichor. Then he rushed toward Jester, firing two more blasts at the creature looming over her. Both hit, but the creature still stood. It glanced over its shoulder, lips curling as it met Fjord’s eyes – and twisted the blade.

Jester let out a strangled gasp, blood bubbling out of her mouth. And then she stilled.

The ship fell away. The sounds of combat faded. All he saw was blue and red: skin – blood – moonlight gleaming on a steel blade – pools staining the deck––

“No!” As he shouted, he rushed forward, reaching a hand toward the creature. Darkness shot from his fingers to sink into the creature, making it seize and shriek. As pain pulsed through it, life flooded Fjord, but he didn’t need it – Jester did – he needed to get to Jester – he needed––

The creature staggered toward him, swinging the sword. Fjord dodged and parried, pulsing the life-draining magic through the creature when he found another chance to focus. It was enough; the creature collapsed with a final shriek, the sword falling from its hands. Fjord spared no time for it. He raced to where Jester lay on the deck, surrounded by a pool of her own blood. Falling to his knees, he pulled her head into her lap, wondering distantly if her skin had always been so cold.

“ _Caduceus!_ ” he shouted, voice cracking with the volume and the anguish. Where were the others? There was movement all over the deck, but he couldn’t focus long enough to distinguish friend from enemy. “Caduceus, I need you! Jester needs you!”

And then a shadow was falling over him, a gentle hand on his shoulder. Caduceus stared down at Jester with uncharacteristic grimness. A bruise was forming near his temple. One of his arms was bleeding. But all Fjord could focus on was the dark expression in his eyes.

“Heal her,” he pleaded. “Get one of the diamonds. Heal her!”

Slowly, Cad shook his head. “Fjord, I… I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you _can_ ’t? You brought me back a week ago! Now bring _her_ back!”

“Fjord, I can’t.” He lowered himself to kneel on the deck, both hands on Fjord’s shoulders now as he stared his friend directly in the eyes. “We used both our diamonds, Fjord. I don’t have anything to heal her with.”

“But – but she’s – I can’t…” The words wouldn’t come. His throat was burning like he’d just choked out gallons of salt water again, his eyes stinging, his body stiff and cold. Jester was limp and heavy where she rested against him. “She…”

This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. _This couldn’t be happening_.

He turned to the clouds overhead, dark and unrelenting, and he screamed. “Melora! Please! Please, bring her back! You don’t need our diamonds but we need _her_! We need Jester! You can’t take her from us!”

The world had fallen too quiet as he waited for some answer, some sign. Distantly, he realized the battle had ended. The other enemies had been dispatched. Slowly, the rest of their friends were crossing the ship to stand near him. They were talking – crying – trying to come up with a solution.

But he had ears only for the Wild Mother, and she wasn’t answering.

He reached down, pulled the chain on Jester’s necklace so her holy symbol slipped free from where it had been tucked under the front of her armour. He gripped the symbol in a shaking, blood-soaked fist and yelled, “Artagan! She’s your friend! You can’t let your friend die! You bring her back _now_!”

He didn’t know what a sign from the Traveller looked or sounded like, but he knew he hadn’t received one.

He crumpled over Jester’s lifeless body, burying his face against her shoulder, finally giving in to the sobs clawing at his chest. Hands were touching his shoulder, his head, his back, but all he could feel was warm blood and cold skin and hot, burning tears.

Eventually, through his sobs, he heard Cad’s soft voice murmuring in the cadence of a prayer. Fjord’s heart clenched and he drowned it out, not ready to hear a sermon or a death rite, still clinging faintly to desperation and denial. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. _This couldn’t be happening_.

A soft gasp. The world felt strangely still as an unprecedented calm settled over him. Someone was touching his face, encouraging him to lift head. He found his gaze meeting kind, bright eyes. The Wild Mother smiled at him, then turned to look beside him at Caduceus, offering a slight nod. The Firbolg smiled back with tearful reverence and relief.

“I’m sorry I could not hear you,” she told Fjord, “but I’m glad I at least heard your brother’s prayers. Let’s put things right.”

Her gentle hands left Fjord’s face, reaching instead for Jester. She smoothed Jester’s hair back from her face, clearing the blood away with a simple touch. As her hands carefully drifted over Jester, tending to gashes and bloodstains, the wounds and their evidence faded away. And then she bent, placing a gentle kiss to Jester’s lips. Jester gasped in her first breath of air and the goddess dissipated in a swirl of warm breeze and flower petals.

Jester gulped in air and Fjord could breathe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spells/abilities used in this scene, for those curious, are as follows: Eldritch Blast, Enervation, Divine Intervention.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fjord dreams of Jester's death, and it sends a clear message.

The nightmares started the next night.

At first, Fjord assumed it was his mind processing the trauma of Jester’s death, replaying the gruesome scene to make sense of it. But then it repeated, and repeated, and repeated, until he felt like he was drowning in grief and panic and the spill of her blood. But the press of sleep held him under like a relentless undertow; he couldn’t wake up, couldn’t escape.

And when he had lost count of Jester’s deaths, a voice as deep at the ocean itself rumbled at him from the darkness.

“ _Punish_.”

Fjord’s blood ran cold. He searched for the familiar glowing eye watching, but all he saw was darkness and Jester. Jester, bleeding. Jester, dying. Jester, his punishment.

“ _Punish_.”

The blood and corpse faded. A new Jester appeared, whole and happy, skipping toward him. Then her eyes widened with obvious fear, lips forming his name – but there was no sound. And then dark tendrils shot past him and into her, piercing her flesh and twisting around her like so many snakes to crush her.

“ _Punish_ ,” Uk’otoa growled again, drawing the word out in a hiss as Jester writhed and screamed soundlessly.

And then Fjord was bolting upright in bed with a strangled gasp. His skin was coated in a cold sweat, whole body shaking. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, quiet sobs shaking his shoulders.

One last, growling whisper found his mind: “ _Betrayer…_ ”

This wasn’t going to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I didn't mention this originally, but the fic title comes from Nothing Makes Sense Anymore by Mike Shinoda, which is just a very Fjord song imo.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fjord makes a plan to deal with the renewed threat from Uk'otoa, even if the rest of the Mighty Nein won't like it.

They arrived in Nicodranas some days later, their ship minimally damaged and everyone in one piece. They had decided while at sea that they should spend a week or so relaxing and recouping in the city, and during that last stretch of sailing a plan had begun to take shape in Fjord’s mind.

Every night had been plagued with nightmares that left him sick and exhausted come morning. And every nightmare left him feeling flayed open and exposed, like the great eye of Uk’otoa could see into his mind, his heart, his soul. Like Uk’otoa could see a truth Fjord had only just begun to recognize.

He split off from the group soon after they reached the Chateau, using all the hubbub and excitement of telling Marion about their adventures and Traveler Con to slip out and set to work. He made his way back to the docks, seeking out the Ball Eater and its navigator.

Orly was, of course, confused by his request. The tortle squinted at him through his good eye as he said, “Mmm-may I ask… _why_ you prefer I nnnn-not tell the rest of your… compatriots?”

“It’s something I need to handle on my own, and I know they won’t allow me to,” Fjord said. The ship around them was a flurry of action as the crew unloaded and prepared for some time away from sea. Fjord felt a pang of guilt knowing he was cutting their assumed vacation short, but he brushed it aside. This was more important. “Can I trust you to keep this quiet? And have the ship ready for the requested time?”

“I www-would rather if we at least… included your whole crew in some discussion––”

“Allow me to rephrase.” Fjord’s voice dipped low, taking on a practiced hint of menace. “I am not suggesting or inquiring. As your captain, I am _ordering_ you to keep this quiet and be ready when I ask. Understood?”

Orly gave him a long, considering look. Then, with a shrug, he said, “Www-whatever you say, Captain.”

The rest of the Mighty Nein had only just noticed his absence when he returned, a box of pastries in hand (which he bought so he could brush off their questions about where he had gone, sure, but also because he knew Jester’s eyes would brighten with delight when she saw the treats he offered).

Finding time to speak to Marion was harder. It was one thing for Jester to request her mother make room in her schedule to spend time with her, but for him to ask for a private moment with her seemed… inappropriate. But he needed to. And a bit of awkwardness was a fair price to pay for ensuring his plan came together smoothly.

Marion looked equal parts scandalized and intrigued when he caught her on the way down to breakfast the next morning and asked if she could arrange a time to speak with him in private.

“It’s not like _that_ ,” he explained hastily, feeling a blush spread to the very tips of his ears. “Not that there’s anything wrong with–– You’re a lovely woman, really, and I know you do wonderful work – er, I’ve _heard_ you do, and––”

“Fjord,” she cut in, her lips twitching into a smile. “It’s fine. I understand. Yes, if there is something you wish to talk to me about, I can absolutely spare a moment for it.” Then, leaning closer, expression turning serious, she asked, “Does this have to do with that Traveler? Did he hurt her? Is she safe?”

“Sh-she’s safe from the Traveler, I assure you. I kept a very close eye during the whole convention.”

Marion nodded. “Good. We can speak this evening, just after supper, if you like.”

“Yes, that would work wonderfully. Thank you.”

“My Jester… dead.” Marion was staring at Fjord with such a horrified expression that he worried she might faint. She pressed a hand to her chest, drawing a shuddering breath and shaking her head slowly. “I… Why would you tell me this? She is okay now, yes?”

“Yes, she’s fine, thankfully. But she very easily couldn’t have been if Caduceus’ prayer hadn’t reached the Wild Mother, or if something had blocked Melora from reaching us.”

“And you believe she is still in danger?”

“I know she is.” He leaned forward in his seat, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. He stared down at his rough nails and calloused fingers, dimly aware of how out-of-place he must look in Marion’s lavish chambers. But his thoughts quickly focused elsewhere. “That’s why I need to leave.”

“ _Leave_?”

“For a while. I’m not sure how long. But, when I do go, I need to know I won’t suffer any interference.” He glanced up at her. “Can you make sure the staff here know not to bother me?”

Marion frowned at him. “You must know this will hurt her, Fjord.”

“She’ll live – and that’s what counts right now.”

With a soft sigh, she nodded. “Okay. For Jester’s safety.”

He spent the next three days scouring Nicodranas for shops with magical wares and potions, which was slightly hampered by the fact that he couldn’t spend the _entire_ three days searching. Too much time away from his friends without explanation was suspicious, and “going for a walk” for seven hours wasn’t likely to be believed – especially not by someone was infuriatingly perceptive as Caduceus. So he spaced it out in small intervals, his absences framed by other errands and innocuous excuses. Finally, by the afternoon of the fourth day in town, he found a shop that carried a potion to suit his needs, along with a second Bag of Holding.

He tucked the swirling yellow potion into the new bag, which he waved off to the others as a smart investment: “We’ve been getting so much loot in our travels – having more bags just means we won’t run out room if we slay a dragon and want all its scales.”

“Oh, are we slaying a dragon now?” Caduceus asked in his usual sleepy tone of pleasant surprise. “That’s exciting.”

Ignoring him, Fjord tossed the old Bag of Holding to Yasha. “You can carry this one. The weight shouldn’t bother you at all, right?”

That had, naturally, set off an argument about who was truly the strongest in the group, which had turned into a catastrophic arm-wrestling contest that ended in a broken table and two smouldering chairs.

Fjord was just glad no one questioned him.

“Jester, there you are.”

She jumped, whirling to face Fjord and not-so-subtly shifting to try to block his view of the floral dicks she had been painting onto the base of the Mother’s Lighthouse. “Oh, hi, Fjord. I’m just admiring the beautiful view and not defacing your god’s lighthouse at all, I would _never_.”

He smiled at her babbling, sauntering closer and making a point to show off his height by peering over her shoulder. Once it was clear he had gotten a good look at her painting, he cocked an eyebrow at her. “That is, indeed, a very nice view.”

“Weeeell,” she said, grinning, “I thought she might at least appreciate the flowers.”

“It’s very artistic, Jester. I really like what you did with the tulips.”

“Oh, thank you, Fjord,” she said, feigning modesty.

The way her accent curled around his name made his heart flutter, which made it easier and harder to say, “Come for a walk with me?”

She looked surprised and delighted and Fjord felt himself fall a little deeper.

Their walk (which he of course hadn’t planned) brought them to a bakery (how unexpected), and of course Fjord had to buy at least a dozen of Jester’s favourite treats (as thanks for her generous offering to the Wild Mother, really). They walked back to the Lavish Chateau with sticky fingers and powdered sugar on their cheeks.

And if Marion presented him with the replacement for the ridiculous pirate hat when they returned to the Chateau – well, he had to put it on, of course, because it was a gift. And if Jester couldn’t stop giggling at him and calling him “ _soooo handsome_ ,” he could hardly be blamed for keeping the ridiculous hat firmly planted on his head to make her happy. And if she mentioned, off-hand, that she regretted not getting a chance to paint everyone in their fancy clothes before all hell broke loose, how could he not offer to pose that evening and let her paint to her heart’s delight?

(And maybe posing for a painting was an excuse to stare at Jester while she was focused and strangely serious, colours streaked across her cheek as she intently recreated his image onto paper.)

(And maybe he was just glad that this could be how he remembered her.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my best to respectfully recreate Orly's stutter, but let me know if there's any issues with how I've approached it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fjord makes his leave, but things don't go according to plan and he must hurt his friends more than he ever intended.

They always kept two rooms when they stayed in Nicodranas: one for the men, and one for the women. So it was amid the soft sounds of Caleb and Cad’s snores that Fjord carefully pulled on his armour and gathered his things. He was just opening the door to leave when Cad’s sleepy voice called out, “Fjord, where are you going?”

“Just for a walk,” he muttered, heart pounding. Of all the people to wake up and notice him leaving…

“A walk? It’s past midnight.” He could see Caduceus shifting into a sitting position, squinting toward him in the dark. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.” Without another word, he slipped out into the hallway and shut the door behind him. He hurried down the hall, glancing over his shoulder with each step, and started running once he reached the stairs.

Cad was calling to the others: “Everyone, I think something’s wrong. Up! Get up!”

He burst through the doors leading to the street at full speed, mind spinning. Of course Cad would wake up. _Of course_. He just hoped he could keep his lead, and that Orly had properly followed his instructions.

Shouting behind him. He dared a glance; the rest of the Mighty Nein had left the Lavish Chateau and were rushing after him. Beau was gaining on him, always faster and more agile than he was.

“ _Shit_.” Time for emergency measures. He shoved his hand into his Bag of Holding, picturing the vial of swirling yellow and feeling it suddenly materialize against his fingers. He pulled it out, tore the cork out with his teeth, and downed it, all while still running as fast as his legs would carry him.

And then his heart began pounding faster, so hard it hurt – like a hummingbird taking flight inside his chest. His legs were moving double-speed. 

“Caleb!” Beau shouted behind him. “Caleb, do your speed spell thing!”

“I can’t!” Caleb sounded much farther away and a lot more out of breath. “I didn’t prepare it! I didn’t expect to need––”

The docks loomed on the horizon. They were far quieter at night, the anchored ships bobbing contentedly in the gentle waves, their towering masts like a many-fingered, beckoning hand. One ship was set farther out than the others, anchored in deeper water.

Too late, he heard the rush of air behind him – a fist slammed into the back of his head. A surge of energy pulsed through him, trying to lock his limbs, but he pushed back against it and managed only to stumble in his running pace. He was ready for Beau’s next strike, ducking under it so she sailed by overhead – flying. Caleb’s work, no doubt.

Fjord grit his teeth. There wasn’t supposed to be a fight – he was supposed to slip out unnoticed, or outrun them if they did notice, and ultimately leave this all behind without bloodshed. But he couldn’t outpace Beau while she was flying, even at his fastest. He needed the spell to end.

Slowing, he fired three blasts of green energy over his shoulder. Each one slammed into Caleb, knocking the wizard to his knees; Beau fell to the ground, swearing up a storm.

The water glittered barely a hundred feet away. He could make it. _He could make it_.

With a few muttered words, he drew on his small pool of magic. His body turned insubstantial, the world indistinct – and then he was sixty feet further ahead, unsettlingly aware of his body and its weight. The spell still hovered over him, waiting to be called on again.

“ _Fjord, stop_!”

Jester’s voice. He almost tripped, focus slipping, but pulled his mind back to task in time to burst forward once more. He reappeared past the docks, over the water, and his suddenly existent body plummeted like a stone into the waves.

For a moment, he was under the depths, cold and darkness all around and an unseen current tugging at him. Like his nightmares had followed him into the waking world. His heart clenched; his lungs seized––

Then he surged back up to break the surface. His arms cut through the water, carrying him toward the waiting ship without resistance. Far faster, he knew, than any of his friends could swim. When he was near enough, he Far Stepped again, landing solidly on the deck beside Orly with sea water pouring from his armour.

“Raise anchor,” he said. “We’re going. _Now_.”

“As you www-wish, Captain.”

The sails unfurled with a disappointed sigh overhead. Fjord watched, heart heavy, as the Mighty Nein reached the edge of the dock and stared after him. Yelling, cursing, panicking.

A flash of green beside him. He whirled around in time to see a deep green doorway shimmering as Jester stepped through it, her eyes wide with hurt and confusion. “Fjord, what are you doing? Where are you going?”

“Jester, get off the ship. Go back to the others.”

“Why? What are you––”

He rushed her, grabbing her by the waist and shoving her toward the railing. She shrieked, trying to dig he heels in, but his own panic and adrenaline had given him a burst of strength. He was able to haul her over his shoulder just long enough to reach the nearby edge of the ship, which he promptly threw her over.

She landed hard in the rowboat below, winded by the impact. Summoning his sword, Fjord hacked at the ropes securing the boat to the side of the ship. The ropes gave way and the rowboat fell, carrying Jester with it. She reached toward him as gravity seized her, lips forming an incantation, green shimmering around her again – but Fjord threw his will toward it, shattering the spell before it could fully manifest.

The rowboat crashed into the water with an enormous splash, soaking Jester as she screamed up at him. “ _Fjord_!”

“You just… stay down there, nnn-now, _cherie_ ,” Orly said as he stepped up beside Fjord, making a careful motion with his hands. Below, Jester suddenly went rigid and unmoving. Orly turned to Fjord with an expression that was both weary and resigned. “We’d best get a mmm-move on, I think.”

“Right.” With effort, he forced himself to turn away from Jester, focusing instead on helping the crew set sail. But Jester’s frozen expression of betrayal weighed heavily on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Fjord uses a Potion of Speed to gain the benefits of a Haste spell.   
> -Spells/Abilities used: Stunning Strike, Fly, Eldritch Blast, Far Step, Dimension Door, Dimension Door, Counterspell, Hold Person.


	5. Chapter 5

The ocean had never looked so cold and unfriendly, glittering in the moonlight.

After failing to stop Fjord, the Mighty Nein had scrambled to find a way to follow his ship. But he was the only one of them who knew anything about sailing, and he had taken their ship and its crew. Seeking out and hiring a new crew to sail after him had taken a couple days, and the whole time, Fjord had drifted ever further away.

Jester had tried to message him. That first night, she had burned through so many spells, begging him to explain where he was going, asking if he was alright, wondering if they had done something to upset him. She had been met with heavy silence every time, though she sensed her magic had reached him.

He was ignoring her.

Even once they had found a means to follow, they came upon a much bigger problem: _where_? Where was Fjord going? Where should they travel to? He wouldn’t explain himself in messages, and Scrying had proved fruitless – the open sea was enigmatic. He could’ve gone anywhere.

At Caleb’s recommendation, Jester had Scryed at sunset, reporting back the position of the sun in relation to the front of the ship as best as she could. It was the only direction they had to go off of, and it was the one they were following now, with the help of the crew of the Ceaseless Voyage.

She never really felt the chill of the night air, but she still found herself shivering and hugging herself. With one hand, she carefully counted against her fingers as she spoke, the action sending a heavy pang of loss through her chest. “Hi, Fjord. It’s Jester again. I just want to know if you’re alright. We really miss you. You know you can message me right back, right?” She looked down at her hand. “Ah, shit, I think I went one word over…”

All around, the ocean continued its endless roar, which sounded restless instead of soothing.

She tried again. “Hi, Fjord. We’re on a cool new boat called the Ceaseless Voyage. Well, not that cool. I like the Ball-Eater better… Let’s meet up?”

Nothing.

“This is so stupid,” she muttered, leaning against the rail at the bow of the ship. She was suddenly nauseas, though sailing had never made her seasick before. Maybe it was because her heart had dropped into her stomach.

She had already burned through a lot of her magic for the day. But she was going to bed soon – one more spell wouldn’t hurt. And maybe… Maybe this time it would help.

Shifting to sit with her back to the rail, she closed her eyes and focused. “Oh, mighty Traveler,” she intoned, “please open my eyes and bring me visions of Fjord.”

The words weren’t necessary, but saying them made her feel a little lighter and brighter, especially when she soon heard Artagan chuckle softly in her ear. “Again? So soon? Well, alright…”

Her awareness lifted up and out of her body, shooting across the sea in a blur. When the world settled and cleared again, she was on the familiar deck of the Ball-Eater, hovering a few feet away from Fjord. But something was wrong. His sword was out, glowing faintly in his hand, and his eyes were casting about warily, searching for something.

Then his gaze landed on her. And rested there.

“Oh dear,” Artagan murmured.

Eyes never leaving her, Fjord crossed the deck, heading into the Captain’s quarters. He sat down on the bed – and remained there. Unmoving. His gaze unwavering.

_Shit_! She wondered if he could _see_ -see her, or if she was just a floating orb to him, like that time he had caught someone scrying on them in the Xhorhaus. Not that it ultimately mattered. He knew she was watching now, so he was making sure she couldn’t see anything important.

It was strange, staring into his eyes, close enough to touch but still so incredibly far away. She missed him. Did he miss her? Was he annoyed? Angry? Lonely? The questions that always plagued her at night swirled through her mind as she studied him, wishing she could see the answers written plainly across his expression.

Eventually, the vision dissipated, and she was back on the Ceaseless Voyage, heartsick and uncharacteristically cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spells/Abilities used: Sending, Scry, See Invisibility


	6. Chapter 6

It wasn’t long before Scrying revealed the Ball-Eater arriving at a semi-familiar port, one Jester had seen in paintings and heard many stories about: Port Damali. She couldn’t imagine why Fjord would have come back to the city – it never sounded like he had positive memories of the place – but there was no mistaking what she had seen.

By the time they arrived at Port Damali themselves, he was long since gone.

“This is something, though,” Caduceus said when he saw Jester’s disappointment. “We know he was here. We can start asking around, see if he mentioned any plans or destinations while he was here.”

They started by asking around the docks, and Jester found herself automatically turning to her side to tell Fjord to do all the talking, since he was so handsome and charming – but Fjord, of course, wasn’t there. He couldn’t help them. He was the reason they were searching in the first place.

Caleb and Cad led the questioning. Thankfully, half-orcs were not a common sight in the orc-hating city, and the Ball-Eater was a memorable name that left an impression on many of the sailors and dockhands. They were directed to a business that dealt in ship repairs, where a lanky half-elf sneered and spat on the ground when they described Fjord.

“Yeah, that _torcaig_ was here two days ago.” His tongue curled around the foreign word. Jester didn’t recognize it, but Beau and Caduceus bristled. “Wanted a paint job on his ship. Changed its stupid name. Thought it musta been stolen, but he had all the paperwork in order, so I couldn’t do nothing about it.”

“Changed the name?” Caleb asked. “May I ask to what?”

The man shrugged. “Couldn’t tell ya. It was something _Orcish_.” He spat the word as though it tasted foul.

“Well, someone had to paint it onto the ship. They must have some idea what they painted,” Beau said, crossing her arms and leveling the man with a cold stare. Jester got the impression that she very much wanted to punch him.

There was some conversation around the shop as the half-elf man tried to determine who had actually completed the requested job. A ruddy-skinned human eventually stepped up, presenting a scrap of parchment with something written on it in an unfamiliar script.

“May we hold on to this?” Caleb asked.

They shrugged. “Knock yourself out. I have no use for it anymore.”

The Mighty Nein returned to the Ceaseless Voyage, where Caleb took the time to cast one of his rituals. After ten minutes of muttering and drawing arcane runes on the floor with soot and salt, his eyes flared with green energy. He touched the scrap of paper, scanning it quickly, before nodding thoughtfully. “It is, indeed, Orcish.”

“Right, we had established that,” Beau said. “What does it _say_?”

“Let him work,” Veth scolded. “This type of magical genius is complicated and––”

“It is not so simple to translate to Common – there’s no exact equivalent in this language – but the general idea is something like, ah… ‘Repenting Vengeance’.”

“That is a very tough name,” Yasha said. “I like it.”

Jester, who had been watching all of this transpire with a strangely sick feeling in her gut, frowned and wrapped her arms around her middle. “I liked the Ball-Eater.”

“Unfortunately, this still doesn’t tell us where he’s going,” Caduceus said.

Beau sighed, scowling at the Orcish note in Caleb’s hands as though she could intimidate it into explaining itself. “Well, we know something of his mindset right now, at least. That’s not nothing.”

“It’s pretty close to nothing,” Veth muttered.

“Ja, but we know how long ago he left, and we haven’t exhausted our resources here. There are still more places we can ask around.”

They spent much of the afternoon following dead ends around Port Damali, learning very little of Fjord’s plans or the direction he had left in. All they knew was that he had hired several sell swords, and even then they were hard pressed to get clear numbers or names.

That evening, as the sun sank toward the horizon, Jester Scryed again. She found Fjord leaning against the railing of the Ball-Eater ( _‘The Repenting Vengeance_ ,’ she reminded herself, though it made her feel sick and bitter). His hair was cut short, just a soft fuzz along his scalp. The scars on his face were healed. And his tusks were gone.

Jester had never felt so far away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -"torcaig" is an Elvish slur for orcs that I made up. It is loosely based on the Scottish Gaelic words for "boar" and "face".  
> -Beau and Caduceus are the only party members who can speak Elvish without the aid of magic.  
> -The spell Caleb casts is Comprehend Languages.


	7. Chapter 7

“I spoke to the Wild Mother,” Caduceus said one morning as he served breakfast. His friends stared at him in varying degrees of surprise and confusion. With a soft smile as he passed the last plate to Veth, he said, “Communed with her, rather. I figured maybe she could at least point us in the right direction.”

“Did she?” Caleb asked.

“She offered guidance.” Caduceus took his time settling in to eat before he continued. “We can take comfort knowing Fjord has not returned to Uk’otoa’s service, though whatever he has planned is related to his old patron. And he’s going somewhere we know – somewhere we’ve been before.”

Beau slouched in her chair, hooking one arm over the back of it. “Well… I guess it’s good to know he hasn’t gone evil on us.”

“Those blasts to the ribs certainly felt evil,” Caleb muttered.

“The Wild Mother hasn’t steered us wrong before, so there’s no reason not to trust what she tells Caduceus,” Yasha said. Then, with a thoughtful frown, she added, “We have been many places, though. That doesn’t help us know where he’s going.”

“But how many places have we been that relate to Uk’otoa?” Caduceus asked.

They discussed their options: The two temples with the opened seals, the Diver’s Grave, possibly even Darktow. Jester sat back from most of the conversation, the revelation that Fjord was pursuing something related to Uk’otoa filling her with a new wave of worry.

She had promised him, all those months ago, that she would do anything to help him free himself of Uk’otoa. They had sworn to look out for each other, to always have each other’s backs. So why had he abandoned her – abandoned _them_ – to do… whatever this was? Why didn’t he want his friends by his side now, when he should need their support and protection more than ever?

“I’m going to ask the Traveller about it,” she said abruptly, cutting in to the circling discussion. Her friends looked at her curiously, but she didn’t elaborate, instead hurriedly leaving the table and heading for the main deck.

She had intended to sit down and Commune with the Traveller as Caduceus had with the Wild Mother. She did, really. But as she lowered herself down onto the scrubbed wood planks and started to prepare herself, she hesitated. The Traveller was still her good friend, and she loved and trusted him very much, but finding out he wasn’t a god… The mess of Traveller Con… This felt big and heavy and important and she wasn’t sure Artagan could carry it. And, besides, what would she ask? All the questions in her mind were complicated and half-formed, certainly not something that could be answered with a simple “yes/no”.

She just wanted someone to talk to about everything she was feeling.

But the only person she wanted to talk to about that was _Fjord_.

“Fjord,” she murmured, then paused, thumb raised to tick off the first word of her short message. She swallowed and tried again. “Fjord… I miss you. I miss talking to you. It’s okay if you can’t tell me where you are. Just tell me you’re okay.”

There was a long stretch of silence; her heart sank like a stone tossed overboard. Then the air shifted and a voice whispered, soft and warm and familiar, so close and real that she could almost believe he was there, right by her ear: “I’m fine, Jester.”

And that was all.

Days later, her Scry showed her Fjord on his hands and knees on the deck of his ship, convulsing and wracked by violent coughs as an unfamiliar woman pressed glowing hands to his abdomen. Jester wanted to scream, wanted to rush closer and help him, but she was just a floating observer.

And then he started vomiting – sea water spewing from his throat. A bright yellow orb with a dark, pupil-like stripe thudded onto the deck.

She settled back into her body, blinking at the rest of her friends’ concerned and curious expressions. “I… He had an orb. I think he must have been to one of the temples.”

“Then we know where to go next,” Caduceus said, smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spells/Abilities used: Commune, Sending, Scry.


	8. Chapter 8

Jester woke from a nightmare of Fjord coughing up the cloven crystal, his chest split open by the Sword of Fathoms, his eyes rolling back into death as the seas rose and massive, many-eyed tentacles seized their ship and ripped it to pieces.

She didn’t even think. She just pushed her words toward him, desperate to hear his voice again. “Fjord! Fjord, are you okay? I’m scared, Fjord. I miss you so much. I don’t want Uk’otoa to get you – we’re supposed to protect each other. I just want you to––”

She was cut off by his breathing, heavy and panicked. “Jester? Jester, where are you? Get out of here! He’s––”

A deep, hair-raising voice growled low into her mind. “ _Punish_.”

And then Fjord was a garbled, incoherent mess – screaming, calling her name, _crying_. It ended abruptly when he ran out of words for his response.

Sitting upright in bed, clutching her sheets in tight fists, she messaged him again. “Fjord! Fjord, what happened? I could hear you screaming. What was that voice? Was that Uk’otoa? Is he there? Is he hurting you?”

She waited. Silence.

“Traveller,” she called to the room, “help me. Guide me. Show me Fjord!”

The familiar flutter of a cloak behind her. “Settle, my little seed of chaos. I’ve got you.”

And then she was whisked up and away, suddenly appearing within Fjord’s quarters. He was sitting hunched over in bed, his sword out and glowing in one hand while the other was pressed to his forehead. He had slept in his armour, but what she could see of his exposed skin was slick with sweat; his shoulders heaved with gasping breaths. He lifted his head, revealing gleaming tear tracks on his cheeks. His eyes fell on her. “Jester…?”

“It’s me, Fjord.” She found herself whispering. Why was she whispering? She tried to move closer, to reach out to comfort him, but the Scrying magic bound her to a fixed point in his proximity.

“I hope it’s you. I can’t tell.” He stared at her for a long moment, tears still flowing down his cheeks, though his breathing had calmed. Softly, he said, “Please… get off the water. Stay safe. I’ll be done with all this soon.”

The spell ended. Jester was back in her own bed, heavy with dread and hope.

They had managed to figure out – through a series of confusing conversations over maps – that Fjord had visited the second temple first. They set a course for the temple on Urukayxl and prayed they could reach it before he had come and gone.

As they made their way past Inkclaw Reef – taking great care to avoid wrecking themselves – Beau spotted floating timber and what looked like half a mast, its waterlogged sail spread out over the jagged rocks. There also appeared to be a figure tangled up in the soaked cloth.

“It looks recent,” Beau said. “Should’ve been dragged down to the bottom of the ocean by now, otherwise.”

Jester was squinting out toward it, trying to get a better look, but it was hard to make out details at this distance. “Who is it? Does the ship look familiar? Does the body look familiar?” Fjord might have passed through recently…

“I’ll go take a look.” Caleb pulled out a raven’s feather, muttered a few words, and lifted from the deck of the ship, flying over to the body and the debris.

The rest of them watched with bated breath, craning their necks to see as he carefully untangled the sail from the corpse. Jester caught a glimpse of green skin. Impulsively, she reached for the nearest hand and squeezed; Beau winced.

“We don’t know anything yet. It could be anybody,” Beau muttered – but even she didn’t sound convinced.

It felt like Caleb sat with the body for an eternity, every second bringing Jester’s heart lower in her chest, every breath bringing her closer to tears. Then he was flying back to them, empty-handed.

As his feet gently touched down onto the Ceaseless Voyage, he said, “It isn’t anyone we know.”

“Are you sure?” Jester asked. She forced herself to drop Beau’s hand, worried she might accidentally break it. “It – It looked green from here and––”

“It was an orc,” Caleb said, stepping closer to place his hands on his shoulders, “but it was not _our_ orc.”

“Are you _sure_? Because Fjord probably passed through here and he looks different now and––”

“It was not Fjord. This body was much bigger – probably a full orc, not a half.”

“But what if it was his ship – what if he’s under the water!”

“Should we dive down and check?” Yasha asked.

Caduceus shook his head. “No, there are easier ways to find out. We can Scry or send a message; if he’s dead, the spells won’t reach him. If he’s alive, then we have reassurance.”

“Right. Okay. You’re right.” Jester sucked in deep breaths, trying to still the shaking in her hands and knees. Her skin seemed covered in pins and needles.

When she had calmed enough to call on the Traveller to help her Scry, her vision was pulled further across the sea, onto the deck of a familiar ship full of unfamiliar faces. Fjord stood at the bow, staring out ahead at the approaching island – one the Mighty Nein had visited many months ago in the custody of pirates and service of a dark leviathan.

He was alive. And he was about to land at Urukayxl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spells/Abilities used: Sending, Scrying, Fly


	9. Chapter 9

They pushed forward as fast as the winds and the currents would let them, aided occasionally by Jester or Caduceus controlling the water to propel them along even faster. Still, it seemed too slow. Still, they worried they wouldn’t make it in time.

That night, when the sun had only just sunk beneath the horizon and the ocean had bled itself clean of the bright orange stain of light, Caduceus called out from the crow’s nest. “A ship! To the East! I think it’s him!”

They all scrambled to look; their hired captain withdrew a small spyglass from his pocket and peered through it. After a moment’s observation, he passed it off to Beau, saying, “It looks like the right ship. Recognize the writing on the side?”

It was him. Finally, it was him.

Though she was low on spells, Jester didn’t hesitate. She reached out with her higher-level magic, seizing the ocean with her mind and using it to pull the Repenting Vengeance closer, like the water was simply an enormous rug. Even from a distance, she could see the flurry of motion breaking out on the deck as the crew fought against the invisible force dragging them to the side.

“Beauregard, let’s go!” Caleb called, raven’s feather in hand. Light flared around his and Beau’s feet and they took off running, leaping and soaring off the side of the ship.

“All hands! Ready the planks! We’re boarding soon!”

Their crew rushed to work. The Repenting Vengeance was close enough now that Jester could hear Fjord’s voice, calling out above the commotion in a familiar drawl that warmed and chilled her all at once. “Stand down! I said _stand down_!”

The vessels were only a few meters apart now; Jester was sweating and shaking with the effort of pulling it closer, of fighting against the natural force and will of the sea. Beau had just caught Fjord with two precise strikes near his kidneys, causing his body to go rigid and motionless. Caleb moved in, shackles in hand, beginning to restrain Fjord’s arms behind his back.

“What are you doing?” a member of Fjord’s crew demanded. She was a tall elven woman in chainmail, and she looked torn between holding to her captain’s orders and lashing out at Beau and Caleb.

They were near enough for the plank now. Yasha yanked it from their struggling crew’s hands and placed it herself before clambering across. Caduceus and Veth followed suit, and Jester went last, waiting until both ships had dropped anchor.

When she reached the crowd surrounding Fjord, he had been forced to his knees and a gag had been shoved into his mouth. Patting his shoulder, Caleb said, “You’ll have a chance to work your silver tongue later. For now, I want to know what your crew says of you.” He looked to the elven woman who had spoken earlier. “Who is this man to you?”

Her hand rested on the hilt of a sword at her hip, clearly ready to attack at a moment’s notice. The holy symbol of Tyr hung from a cord around her neck. “He is Captain Oskar Clay, paladin of the Wild Mother and bane of the great leviathan, Uk’otoa.”

Jester glanced toward Fjord, hoping to gauge his reaction, but his head was bowed and she couldn’t see his expression.

“Bane of Uk’otoa? How so? What is he doing?”

The woman tilted her chin defiantly. “Why should I tell you? Who are you, to assail our ship and attack our captain?” In one swift motion, she had unsheathed her short sword and stepped closer. “I should cut you all down right here.”

Grunting around his gag, Fjord shook his head vigorously.

“Captain?”

Caleb leaned down toward him, voice low with warning. “You may say _two words_. Nothing more. Tread carefully.” And he pulled the wad of cloth free.

Fjord immediately looked to the woman, who Jester gathered was probably his first mate, and said, “Answer. Peacefully.”

He was still using Vandran’s drawl.

There was a long pause. Slowly, reluctantly, the woman sheathed her sword. Scowling at the Mighty Nein, she said, “Captain Clay knew of ancient keys used to weaken the seals holding Uk’otoa at bay. He hired us to aid him in locating the temples housing these keys, and then infiltrating them and taking the keys back. He said he was plagued by visions and nightmares of the creature because it was his duty to stop him and this was a step toward doing so.”

“What is the next step?”

“Finding a way to destroy the keys so that no one can use them again.”

Silence settled over them as they weighed this news. Jester stared at Fjord, on his knees and at their mercy on the deck of the ship, relieved that he was alive and apparently not evil but still furious and hurt that he would turn to strangers for help instead of his friends.

“Well, it seems he was mostly honest with you, though not entirely.” Caleb nudged Fjord’s leg with his boot. “Fjord? Care to explain who you really are to these people?”

Fjord bowed his head. When he spoke, he sounded like himself again. “My name is Fjord Stone. I have… ties to Uk’otoa that I tried to sever months ago, but it didn’t stick. I hired you all to help me undo the mistakes I made in his service.” Tentatively, he looked up toward his old friends. “I used to travel with this party. They are the Mighty Nein. You should regard them with the utmost respect.”

The woman stared down at him, open-mouthed and narrow-eyed. While some of his other crew members had taken nervous steps back and begun muttering amongst themselves, the first mate shook her head. “Why does this matter? What do you wish to do with him?”

“That is to be determined,” Caleb said lightly. “For the moment, we would like our old ship back – and its old crew.” He nodded toward where Orly, Marius, Gallan, and Shelda stood far from the rest of the crowd. “I’m sure we can arrange for the Ceaseless Voyage to bring you back to the Menagerie Coast, if that is agreeable.”

There was a lot of shuffling and murmuring from Fjord’s crew, snatches of words like “trust” and “future” and “home” reaching Jester as she waited anxiously for their response. Finally, the woman turned back to them with a curt nod. “Very well. You may have him, and we will join this other ship. But we expect the rest of our payment.” This last part she addressed to Fjord, who nodded deeply and wordlessly.

Everyone went to work arranging and settling the deal that had been struck, and eventually the Mighty Nein and the original crew of the Ball-Eater raised anchor and set sail, leaving behind the Ceaseless Voyage and its new passengers. Jester kept a close eye on Fjord through it all. Even while he knelt, shackled, on the deck of the ship – his face and hair changed, his tusks missing – she felt closer to home than she had in weeks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spells/Abilities used: Control Water, Fly


	10. Chapter 10

“Jester, I really think this is a bad idea.”

She sighed. Caleb held tight to her forearm and, though she knew she could easily shrug him off, she let him hold her back a moment longer. “I just want to talk to him.”

“I understand, but I think it unwise to do so _alone_.”

“Let me come with you,” Beau said, arms crossed. “He tries anything, I punch his handsome fucking face numb.”

Beau and Caleb had caught her trying to sneak into the captain’s quarters of the Repenting Vengeance, where Fjord was locked up – temporarily, they said. But Jester worried. Fjord had hurt them, yes, but not out of viscous or malicious intent. There was no need to treat him like a prisoner. They could trust him just as much as they trusted Yasha after freeing her from Obann.

‘ _But Yasha had no say in following Obann_ ,” Veth had said. ‘ _Fjord_ chose _this. He_ chose _to leave us,_ chose _to hurt us. I don’t know if we can trust that.’_

Jester forced a smiled. “Thank you, Beau. Thank you, Caleb. But I’ll be fine – really. I’m not stupid.”

“You don’t have to be stupid to fall for his charms,” Caleb said. “It’s kind of his thing.”

“And forcing people to tell the truth is my thing.”

He and Beau exchanged uncertain glances, seeming to share a silent conversation with their eyes. Finally, with a shrug, Beau said, “Fine. But we’re staying close by in case anything happens. Alright?”

Jester agreed, relieved when her friends finally moved a few steps away to wait for her.

She entered into the captain’s quarters, closing the door with a soft click behind her; Fjord had looked up immediately and now seemed frozen, his vivid yellow eyes wide and nervous. “Jester…”

She muttered a few words and made a small gesture with her fingers. Magic flowed out from her, rushing over and through him without resistance, almost as though he was simply giving into the spell instead of fighting its affects. The thought sent a slight shiver through her, but she brushed it off. This wasn’t the time to get lost in silly feelings about Fjord.

A stretch of silence passed over them. Jester remained by the door, and Fjord hadn’t moved from where he sat at the edge of the bed. Finally, in a low voice, he said, “Was there something you wanted to ask––”

“What happened to your tusks?” she blurted.

He sat up a little straighter, hand automatically brushing over his mouth. “Oh, that. Uh… Well, I don’t… I didn’t exactly understand how your magic worked, but I remembered showing you an image of Vandran allowed you to send him a message. I thought, maybe… if I didn’t look like myself, your magic would have a harder time reaching me and you wouldn’t be able to follow.” He let out a short, joyless breath of laughter, staring down at where his hands were now folded in his lap. “Obviously that was wrong.”

She took a step closer, tilting her head as she studied him. “And your scars?”

“Same idea. One of the people I hired is a cleric – she had this regenerative spell.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Pretty cool. You’d like it.”

They fell into silence again. Outside, the ocean cradled and rocked them, as though trying to comfort the buzzing unrest and uncertainty that filled the room.

“Why didn’t you trust us to help?” Jester eventually asked in a small voice.

He sighed as he ran his hand over his too-short hair. “It’s not that I didn’t trust you. I––”

“Then why did you leave?”

“Jester, I wanted to––”

“Why did you never answer me?”

He bowed his head, shoulders sagging.

“Why did you attack Caleb?” Jester was building momentum now, all the questions that been swirling in her mind and burning through her heart finally spilling over. “Why wouldn’t you let me come with you? Why wouldn’t you _tell us_ anything? And you were so nice all day before you left – and then you ran off and made all these new friends and––”

“They weren’t friends,” he cut in.

“Then why did you want to be with them instead of us?!”

“Because Uk’otoa was going to kill you again!” he shouted, surging up from the bed.

She stared at him, open-mouthed.

His hands went to his hair again and he started pacing the small room. “It wasn’t an accident or a coincidence that you died that day. Uk’otoa started sending me nightmares every _fucking_ night to make sure I knew – to make sure I understood that he would kill you as many times as we brought you back until we couldn’t anymore and I––” But words failed him.

“You thought leaving would make me… safer?”

“At least while I had Uk’otoa distracted by taking back his keys, and hopefully by the time I was done he’d be too weak to do anything anymore.”

She took a tentative step closer. “Do you think it worked?”

He stopped pacing, offering a broad, sort of helpless shrug. “I don’t know, Jester. I don’t know if I’ll ever know – unless and until he makes a move again.”

“So… what were you going to do?”

He said nothing, gaze dropping to the floor.

“Were you just going to stay away forever?”

“If I had to,” he murmured.

“Fjord––” She stepped closer, hands reaching toward him – but stopped short. Part of her still felt like she was anchored away from him by her Scry, tether close but unable to touch. Miles of sea between them.

He met her gaze, vivid eyes pleading. “I didn’t want to, Jester – I _don’t_ want to.”

“Then why would you? Fjord, we’re in danger all the time – all of us have put each other in danger before.”

“This is different,” he said in a soft, strained voice.

“Why?”

He was silent.

Jester finally took the last step to close the distance between them, gently resting a hand against his arm. “Fjord, _why?_ ”

“Because I love you!” he blurted. Then his eyes widened, as though he had just realized what he said. Letting out a shaky breath, he glanced away, whole face darkening in a blush. “And I don’t want to lose you.”

“You – what?”’

“I love you,” he said, more softly this time, and it still sounded too perfect to be real.

‘ _You don’t have to be stupid to fall for his charms_ ,’ Caleb had said. But – but Fjord was in her Zone of Truth. She had felt his will succumb to the spell. He _had_ to be telling the truth – so that meant…

A sudden giggle bubbled up from her chest. “ _Fjord_.” She reached up and grabbed his face, barely registering the shock in his widening eyes as she pulled down into a fierce kiss. His shock faded quickly and he hooked one arm around her, hand flat across her back to press her flush against him as his other hand dove into her hair, his hot tongue swiping hungrily across her lips. She opened her mouth to grant him entrance, their tongue gliding against each other; the sharp press of his partial tusks against her lower lip elicited a loud, startled moan.

Someone knocked sharply on the door. “Everything okay in there, Jester? You sound in distress,” Caleb called.

Fjord and Jester parted, panting and giggling, resting their foreheads against each other. After taking a second to compose herself, Jester called back, “I’m fine, Caleb. Just fine.”

Staring down at her with a huge, dopey grin, Fjord whispered, “Only fine?”

“Well, maybe a _tiny_ bit better than fine…”

“Hmm, I’ll have to fix that.” He bent down again, capturing her lips in his and laughing into the renewed kiss. Jester pushed him stumbling backward, steering him toward the bed.

Beau and Caleb knocked several more times before they got the hint.

After, while they lay nestled in each other’s arms feeling warm and safe and euphoric, Jester finally whispered one last, lingering worry.

“Are you going to leave again?”

“Not if I can help it.”

And that was all she really wanted.

When he fell asleep, Fjord had no nightmares. He felt only the warmth and protection of the Wild Mother, the gentle waves of the surrounding ocean, and Jester’s love as she held him close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jester uses Zone of Truth on Fjord, and the spell Fjord references the hired cleric using is Regenerate.


End file.
